Vicious Venom
by adromir
Summary: Sam suddenly falls deathly ill shortly after they all return from the apocalypse world with the refugees. Dean is racing against time to find the cure before his brother dies. Again. And permanently this time.
1. Chapter 1

**SUMMARY: Sam suddenly falls deathly ill shortly after they all return from the apocalypse world with the refugees. Dean is racing against time to find the cure before his brother dies. Again. And permanently this time.**

 **A/N: Hello, everyone! It's been a while. I'm sure that most of you had seen the finale episode of Season 13. Well, this story took place right before the finale, within hours after the whole gang jumped through the rift as they returned from the apocalypse world. Let's see how it goes. Spoilers ahead to all who hasn't seen Episode 13. You've been warned.**

 _*SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN*_

Something woke Dean up from the most peaceful sleep he had ever had in months.

Was it a sound, or a movement somewhere? He couldn't really tell. But he needed to find out, just to be sure. The bunker was now crowded with the escapees from the apocalypse world, so it could mean anything. A pillow fight between the teenage girls, maybe? Hungry men raiding the pantry for food and more beer? Or some poor sod could be having an accident with the toilet. Who knows?

Sighing, he rolled over onto his back and stared ruefully at the ceiling. Glancing at his watch, he noticed that the time was almost 3.00 in the morning. He grumbled in disgust. He knew he couldn't get back to sleep until he was fully satisfied that nothing was wrong, and so he got out bed, albeit reluctantly. And with lots of cursing involved.

Outside in the hallway, everything was quiet and very still, as it usually did when there were just the two brothers living there, which was kind of odd now that they had at least thirty people under the roof. Luckily the bunker had many available rooms so everyone had beds to sleep in, even though most of them had to bunk in with a roommate. It was still a luxury compared to the poor state world they had left behind.

Barefoot except for the socks on his feet, Dean's footsteps made no sound as he walked aimlessly about, pausing outside each room he passed to place his ears against the door. No odd noises detected though, so he moved on until he reached the war room.

He was about to head into the kitchen when he noticed that the lamps were on in the library. Frowning, he changed direction. He wasn't surprised to see his younger brother sitting at the table, concentrating hard on the screen of his laptop.

Dean rolled his eyes. He had found the cause that woke him up. Only Sam alone could send him a distress signal without actually sending it.

"Dude," said Dean, as he warily climbed the short steps into the library, "What the hell are you doing?"

Sam looked up, a little startled by his older brother's sudden appearance. "Um…I uh…making a list."

"What list? And why _now_? Can't it wait till morning?" Dean groused. He leaned over Sam's shoulder to peer at the laptop screen. "What's this? Canned food, milk, eggs, flour, first aid supplies, detergents, bedsheets, shirts, pants, towels, soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo…err…tampons? Really Sam? _Tampons_?"

Blushing, Sam snapped down the laptop screen and glared at his brother. "Yes. Tampons. Because there are at least ten women residing here now, including Mom."

Dean blinked. "Does Mom still needs to use tampons? I mean, I thought at her age she's already—jeez, never mind that! What I'm trying to say is, what's the list for?"

"It's the list of supplies for our new friends from the apocalypse world, in case you still can't figure it out."

"They won't even be here if not for _your_ smart suggestion," Dean incredulously said. "Who's gonna pay for all that?"

Sam shrugged. " _Us_ , of course."

Dean made a face. "Of course. Who else it's gonna be?"

"They are now under our protection, so we need to look after them and tend to their needs. I'm trying to figure out how much it's gonna cost us in total. They'll need food, new clothes, amenities and such," Sam said. He flipped open the laptop and resumed typing entries into a spreadsheet, putting numbers under the column entitled 'Cost per Head'.

Grumbling, Dean pulled out a nearby chair and sat down next to his brother. "You do realize we're not running a boarding house here, let alone a hotel? Heck, this is not even frat house!"

"I know that, Dean. But what else should we do? Let them roam around wearing the only clothes on their back, sharing a toothbrush between them, hogging _our_ towels?"

" _Ugh_. Okay, okay. I got your point, but…really? We need to pay for all this? How much will it cost us anyway?"

"Relax. It's not like we're going bankrupt any time soon. Besides, I'm gonna dig into the Men of Letters' coffer."

"You want to use the cash inside the old safe we found hidden a few doors away from the dungeon?"

"That's right. The last time I checked, there are at least a quarter millions of dollars in there."

"And I want them to remain that way!" Dean shot back. "In case…"

"In case you want to buy a Ferrari later? Or perhaps, a Lamborghini?" Sam said with a smirk.

Dean gasped out loud. "Don't you _dare_ insult my Baby!"

His brother's reaction was so comical that it caused Sam to chuckle. Still smiling, he continued to type into the computer.

The older Winchester, however, didn't miss a thing. He watched his brother's face closely. Despite the smile and the dimples showing, Dean clearly noticed the lines appearing on Sam's forehead as he occasionally winced, and the red eyes and the clammy looking skin, sheens of sweat visible in his hairline.

"Dude, you're okay?"

Sam paused. "Err… yeah. Why do you ask?"

"You don't look so hot."

Sam snorted. "But I _am_ hot. Maggie said so. You know Maggie, the girl with two braids? I overheard her telling that to her roommate, that Asian girl, when I showed them both their room last night."

Dean felt like slapping his brother upside the head. "I'm not kidding, you moron. You don't look too good."

"I feel fine, Dean."

"Liar."

"What?" Sam glared back. "Get off my back, man. I told you I'm fine. Stop being a mother hen."

"Then why can't you sleep? Why are you still awake at…uh…" Dean gave his watch a brief glance, "At 3 a.m. I know you, little brother. Something's going on."

"Nothing's going on. I just need to prepare the list." Sam avoided his brother's gaze, which was a telling sign that something was _indeed_ going on.

"That damned list can wait. Do it during the day after you get a good night sleep," Dean interjected as he continued to stare. "Why are you shivering?"

"I'm not—" Sam glowered back. "Go away, Dean. I'm busy."

"You're hiding something from me."

"I always hide something from you. Now leave me alone."

Dean stared some more before he said, "I'll go get you some water."

Sam paused and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Whatever, dude."

With a shake of his head, Dean walked towards the kitchen, his mind busily analyzing his brother's peculiar behavior. Sure, Sam was a grown man now, no longer the scrawny kid who always ran to his big brother to get his cuts and bruises tended to, or to snuggle close for comfort when he caught the flu. After decades of battling monsters and demons and rogue angels, Sam had become very tough, both physically and mentally. A real badass, even.

However, Dean could tell that there was a fine crack deep in his brother's core. Hundreds of years sharing a cage with Lucifer in hell could do that to you. Lately, Sam had this tendency to deny any sign of illnesses or discomfort, as if it were a shield over his many flaws. He refused to appear weak because he didn't want to feel vulnerable, that much Dean understood.

Dean also knew that Sam was as stubborn as a mule and would hardly admit it even if he was inches from dying. But big brother Dean always found a way to get around that. As subtle as he could, he could always made Sam reveal whatever was bothering him.

Opening the fridge, Dean took out a bottle of mineral water. With a shrug, he also reached for a can of beer.

 _This one's for me._

After grabbing a packet of strawberries that Sam loved so much, he closed the fridge and headed back to the library.

The sight of Sam slumping over his laptop caused him to freeze though. "Sammy?"

"Huh? What?" Sam jerked upright, staring blearily at his older brother.

"Dude, seriously? You are clearly _not_ well." Dean came near, putting everything he carried onto the table. Without warning, he reached out to place the back of his palm against Sam's forehead. "Holy crap! You're like a furnace!"

Sam irritably swiped his brother's hand away. "It's nothing. Just a little fever."

"Just a _little_ …?" Dean sighed in exasperation. "When did you start feeling unwell? Come on, man. Tell me. We just returned from the apocalypse world. This could be a very serious problem."

Sam mumbled inaudibly.

"Excuse me? I didn't catch that."

"I said, I feel a little off the day I stepped into the compound with Lucifer trailing behind me."

Dean gaped for several moments, before he exploded, "What the hell, Sam! That was two days ago! You feel sick that long and you don't even bother telling me?"

"I wasn't feeling sick, not _then_. Just off, okay? Besides, we were real busy with so many things going around." Sam shrugged. "But, yeah, okay. I'm definitely sick now."

"Oh, you think?"

"Dean…"

"How did this happen? What kind of bug did you catch over there?

"Who the hell knows? Maybe it's just the flu."

"Flu, my ass." Dean was still fuming. He uncapped the bottled water before passing it to his brother. "Drink it. Now."

Sam only blinked in response.

"Drink it or I'll pour it all over you," Dean threatened.

Sighing, Sam grabbed the bottle and chugged down the water until only half of it remained. "Thanks. I didn't realize I needed that."

"Look, I'm gonna go get Cas. He can heal you."

"Um…Cas isn't here."

"What? Where is he?"

"I don't know. He left around midnight. He only told me he was going out, and he took Jack with him. I guess Cas wants to give Jack some pep talk. The kid is still upset since I told him that Lucifer was killed by Michael. He takes it real hard. If Jack finds out the real story, that I shoved Lucifer away from the rift…I don't think he's gonna feel any better."

Dean rubbed a hand down his face. "Well, that sucks. But you had to do it. There's no way we're letting Lucifer return here."

"Right, but it doesn't make me feel good about it either." Sam took a couple more swallows of water. "Poor Jack."

"Let's concentrate back on you, big guy," Dean responded. "I think you need to go to your room and get rest."

"But—"

"No but! You're obviously ill, and I'm pretty sure you got whatever this is from the other side. So I'm not taking any chances. Besides, you look like crap."

"Yeah, I feel like crap too," Sam finally admitted.

"Now you're saying." He grabbed Sam's upper arm and pulled him out of the chair. "Come on, get up. Go lie down."

"You're bossy," Sam complained. "Wait, my computer…"

"I got it, princess. Go."

Sam staggered away, still complaining about overbearing older brothers in general. Dean raised his gaze to the ceiling and muttered, "Why me?"

Shutting down the laptop, he then grabbed the empty water bottle to throw it into a nearby trashcan. Gathering the packet of strawberries and laptop into his arms, he went after his brother who had disappeared into the hallway leading to the living quarters.

Suddenly he heard Sam crying out for him, followed by the sound of a thump.

"Sammy?" Dean hastily placed everything he carried onto a nearby table and ran. He rounded a corner in a rush, almost crashing onto his brother who lay face down on the floor, unconscious.

"Sam!" Dean dropped to his knees. He grabbed his brother by the shoulder to turn him around, and was instantly alarmed by Sam's deathly pale face. "Sammy? Come on, brother. Wake up!"

With a low moan, Sam's eyes fluttered open. "D…?"

"Yeah, it's me. What the hell, man? I told you to lie down in bed, not on the floor in the hallway," Dean said, half joking. He then noticed something much more disturbing. The whiteness of Sam's eyes were now filled with blood.

"Holy shit…"

As bloodied tears ran down his cheeks, Sam weakly moaned in pain, "Head…eyes…really hurt…"

Gathering his brother's upper half into his arms, Dean rocked him slightly without even realizing doing it. "It's alright, Sammy. I'm gonna call Cas right now. You're gonna be okay."

"D…" Sam's eyes were now closed and his head listed weakly to one side.

"Sam?" Dean softly called, but he got no further response. To his dismay, blood began to freely trickle from Sam's nostril and both ears.

"No, no, no…Oh my god, please no…Sam...Sammy!"

Raising his head, Dean finally cried out in desperation, "Somebody, help!"

 **TBC…**

 **A/N : Ah...I so love cliffies. Don't you?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Carry on...**

 ***SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN***

The door to the nearest room flew open and Arthur Ketch came running out, holding a gun in one hand. Upon seeing the brothers, he rushed over. "Dean! What's the matter?"

The former member of British Men of Letters abruptly came to a standstill when he noticed Sam's awful condition. "Good God! What happened to him?"

"I've got no damned clue!" Dean shot back, sounding a little panicked. "Sam hasn't tell anyone he has been feeling under the weather the last couple of days. He collapsed all of a sudden and now he starts to hemorrhage!"

Ketch knelt by Sam's other side. He felt for the younger man's pulse at the neck and wrist. It was fast and erratic. "He's going into shock."

"You know what this is then? Some kind of an infection or something?" Dean asked, sounding hopeful.

"I'm sorry, I actually do not know. " Ketch shook his head. He then calmly said in his matter of fact voice, "Whatever ails him, we'd better get Sam off the cold floor and put him somewhere warm. Then we need to do a triage to figure out how to help him."

Dean nodded. He took a deep breath to calm his own racing heart. "Right. Help me lift him up."

Putting away his gun, Ketch grabbed Sam's lower half while Dean placed his arm under his brother's shoulders. They both rose to their feet, staggering under the weight of their burden.

"Bloody hell!" Ketch grumbled. "He weighs a ton! What have you been feeding him?"

Dean glowered back in response. Together, they carried Sam towards his bedroom. By then, the rest of the bunker had been stirred awake by the commotion.

"Dean?" Mary Winchester came running in her night robe. She gasped in dismay when she saw her youngest son lying unconscious in their arms. "Sammy! Oh, no. What happened?"

She then turned to Ketch and growled, "What did you do to him?"

Ketch was understandably startled. " _Me_? Mary, I've already sworn to you, I'll never harm a hair on your sons' head, not ever again."

"Mom, Sammy's ill," Dean quickly told her. "Please, go get my phone and call Cas. _Now_. He is out there somewhere with Jack."

Mary sent an apologetic glance at Ketch before she ran off towards Dean's room.

Bobby Singer came near with several other men to help carry Sam the rest of the way. "How can we assist?"

"Let's lie him down on the bed," Ketch suggested. They all maneuvered through the narrow door, being extra careful so as not bang Sam's head or long legs against the doorjamb. He never stirred when his shoes and bloodied shirts were being removed by Dean's deftly hands, or when heavy blankets were spread atop of him.

"Here. Used this." Ketch gave Dean a clean towel he had taken from a chest next to Sam's bed. "The blood still running?"

Dean used the towel to wipe clean his Sam's eyelids and ears. "Not anymore, except for his nose. It's still gushing like a faucet."

"His body temperature is too high, which isn't helping any," Ketch commented. Turning to the other men, he said. "Some of you, come with me. I need help carrying a few things."

They walked out of the room, leaving Dean to tend to his brother. Meanwhile, Bobby looked on thoughtfully. "How did this all start?"

And so Dean explained what Sam had managed to tell him earlier, ending with, "I can barely notice that he is sick, that's how good Sam is at hiding it. But things took a turn for the worse real fast. The next thing I knew, he collapsed."

"Sam said he already felt a bit off when he arrived at the compound?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Before that, he got bitten by some vampires. And then Lucifer brought him back to life, right?"

"Exactly. Why, Bobby? Do you know something?"

Before Bobby could give his response, Mary rushed inside carrying Dean's phone. "Cas is not answering. Or rather, I cannot reach him. Maybe he is out of range, or his phone is turned off."

Dean sighed. He felt like cursing to the heavens. "You leave him a message?"

"I did. I told him that it's extremely urgent, that Sam is dying," Mary said as she came to sit on the bed next to Sam's head. "Is he, Dean? Is my baby dying?"

Dean shook his head as he softly replied, "I don't know, Mom. I don't even know what's wrong with him."

He then turned back to Bobby. "But _you_ might know, don't you?"

Bobby briefly hesitated before saying, "It's the vampire bites."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how it is here in your world, but the vampires in _our_ world are real deadly. Their bites are venomous, highly toxic. Once bitten, if you're still lucky to get away, the toxin will rage inside your body for days until you begin to bleed from every orifice. You will die a slow painful death."

For several long moments, dreadful silence reigned.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean finally exploded, kicking angrily at the nearby chair. "Damn you, Lucifer! Damn you to hell!"

Tears were swimming in Mary's eyes when she completely understood. "Are you saying…Lucifer brought Sam back to life… _without_ healing Sam from the venom?"

Bobby didn't need to answer to that, because they already knew that that was exactly the case.

"Well, that is…utterly dreadful," said Ketch, who now stood in the doorway. He had arrived just in time to hear everything Bobby had said. "But not actually surprising, considering that Lucifer is indeed the ultimate devil."

Dean glared back. "And that is helping, _how_?"

Shrugging off Dean's baleful stare, Ketch stepped further inside, carrying a box. The few men behind him also walked in carrying a few items.

"What are those?" Dean asked, looking a bit suspicious.

"These are some of the tools and supplies from the bunker's infirmary," Ketch responded, "I was a field medic for the British Men of Letters. I've been trained to kill, but they also trained me to save lives. I will do what I can to save your brother. If you will let me."

It took Dean several heartbeats later to nod his consent. "You may. But only if I'm helping too."

"Fair enough." Ketch turned to Bobby. "The vampire venom, your people do have some kind of a cure for it though?"

Bobby sighed. "Indeed we have, in a type of a potion. But in most cases the potion won't work, especially if the victim is too far gone. Some lucky bastards might live, but others would most likely succumb to their death within a week."

"What are the ingredients?" Dean asked. He was pulling out IV bottles and tubes from the box that Ketch had brought in.

Bobby looked to the ceiling as he verbally listed down the materials needed to mix into the potion.

"We have it all here," Dean said, his hope lifted. "Most are kept in the spell pantry, down in the basement. Just a few doors away from the garage."

"I know where it is!" Mary announced as she jumped off the bed. "Come on, Bobby. Let's get to work."

"Mom, get Rowena to help you. She's an expert on potion, and her magic can help a great deal."

She paused at the door. "Oh, Dean, didn't she tell you? Rowena left soon after the celebration party. And Charlie went along with her."

"What? Of all the…" Dean rolled his eyes. "What is this, a hotel? Where everyone can simply come and go as they pleased?"

"It's a bunker, Dean. Not a prison. Everyone is free to come and go," Ketch said as he slipped on a pair of sterile gloves.

"Just shut up and get to work," Dean shot back. "What's first? IV line?"

"Of course. He need fluid to recover from the blood loss. In the meantime, try to get his fever down."

A year before, Dean would have gladly slaughtered the arrogant Englishman now standing on the other side of Sam's bed. They all had come so far since then, and everything had changed big time. There would be some wariness between them still, and there won't be a full complete trust. But for now, Dean believed that Ketch was honestly trying to help save his brother.

Dean used a cold cloth dipped in ice to bath his brother's burning forehead, neck and arms. While doing so, he closely watched as another man took an IV bag to hang it on a tall stand they had just rolled in. Ketch was applying a tourniquet on Sam's arm. After disinfecting the site with alcohol swipe, he then expertly inserted the needle right into Sam's vein. Not long after, the catheter and IV tubing were successfully attached and being connected to the IV bag.

Dean had had the experience to do the same procedure on his brother several times before, but he never liked doing it because he knew that Sam hated needles. And that was why Sam left all the domestic needlework to his older brother—mending the rips in their jeans, or sewing buttons onto their shirts. Sam, the tall muscular giant of a man that he was, who could still fight like a man possessed while sporting a bullet wound in his stomach. But when a needle jabbed his finger, he would scream bloody murder as if he were near death door.

Needles and creepy clowns. Sam's enemies _numero uno_.

Ketch looked up when he heard Dean's soft chuckles. "What?"

"Nothing, man. Just…" Dean shook his head. "Never mind."

The other man shrugged and continued on his work, now monitoring Sam's blood pressure. "A little low, but not too serious. The nose bleed?"

"Trickling now, not as heavy as before. But my gut feeling is telling me, this is not the end of it."

"It's the venom. If what Bobby said is true, the worst is yet to come."

Dean briefly closed his eyes. "I hope they can finish preparing the potion soon. Yet, I'm afraid…"

Ketch understood. "You're afraid the potion wouldn't work, that it would be too little too late."

Dean looked down at his brother, whose face was so wan and sunken, the charming dimples hidden from view. "I'm afraid the reaper would come collect, once and for all. No more free passes. No second or third chances."

"Not if I can help it." Mary suddenly appeared at the door with Bobby in her wake. She was carrying a steel bowl which she passed on to Ketch. "The potion."

All their gazes rested on the unconscious Sam.

"He won't be able to swallow it, not in his current state," said Dean.

"Then we do what we gotta do," Ketch responded.

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"

Ketch turned to a man standing in the corner, "Hey, Gus. Hand me over the 5 mL oral syringe from that case next to you."

Gus hastened to do so. Ketch stuck the tip of the syringe into the potion and pulled the plunger until it was completely filled up. He then handed the syringe over to Dean. "Ever feed a baby bird?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "No, but I have fed my baby brother some horribly taste cough syrup many times before when he was a kid. I know the drill."

"Good, but he was awake then. You have to squirt in the potion. I'll help him swallow."

Together they carefully raised Sam's upper half. Mary went over to sit behind his younger son to keep him upright and steady. Pulling Sam's head back a little until it rested against her shoulder, Mary said, "Go, Dean. I got him."

Nodding, Dean pried open Sam's jaw and placed the base of the syringe against Sam's lower lip. He then gently pressed the plunger, twice, squirting the potion directly into Sam's throat. Ketch reached over to gently massage Sam's neck, downward. They repeated the process several more times until the syringe went empty.

"Do we need to get more into him?" Dean asked. "There's still some left in the bowl."

"What you already gave him is enough," Bobby responded. "The ingredients are quite potent. Too much of 'em, and it would create other kinds of complications."

Dean sighed. "Right. And we have enough complications in our hands already. So what now?"

"I guess we wait."

Dean felt like bashing his head against the wall. Waiting had never been his strongest point. "I mean what else can we do besides waiting?"

"We will pray for him." A young feminine voice came from the door. They all turned to look and found the girl Maggie standing there, her roommate right behind her, as were the other women refugees and the rest of the men from the other world.

"It was at Sam's suggestion that we're here, safe and protected. The least we can do is pray for him," Maggie added. She turned to her fellow companions. "Come on, everybody. Let's go sit together in the hallway."

"I will join them," said Bobby, gesturing for Gus and the other man to follow him.

Dean watched them go, slightly dazed. He was touched by their gestures, yet at the same time he felt doubtful, wondering if the praying would be all for nothing. God had stopped answering prayers ever since he had left for who knows where with Amara. At least God had stopped answering _his_ prayers, that much Dean knew. Hopefully, some tiny bit of miracles were reserved for Sam, the most deserving kind hearted man ever been born. Dean could only hope.

Ketch rose to his full height. "I'll head back to the infirmary, see if you have enough stock of O negative. Sam might need a transfusion."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You know Sam's blood type?"

"Not only his, I know yours too. British men of Letters, remember?" Ketch smiled, a bit haughtily.

"Ugh. Don't remind me." Dean waved him away. Turning around, he found that Mary was now cradling Sam's head against the crook of her arm. She was brushing an errant lock of hair from his younger son's damp forehead.

"When Sammy was born, he was so little, all red and wrinkle like a prune. So skinny, a lot lighter than you were," Mary softly said. "I never thought he would grow up to be so…"

"Humongous? Gigantic?"

Mary laughed. "Not what I was meaning to say, but…yeah. He's real huge, so freaking tall! It's just that…he's so beautiful, you know? I could hardly believe it, I'm still awestruck sometimes."

"Hey, what about me?" Dean pretended to be hurt, though he was not the least bit offended. He knew how good looking his brother was. He saw how the girls and women look at his brother twice everywhere they went, which sometimes made their job a bit difficult. And the real kicker was, Sam never seemed to be aware of his appeal, which made the ladies wanted him all the more, causing Sam to react very awkwardly around them.

"You're too handsome for your own good," Mary teased him back.

Dean shrugged, pleased. "Well, I'm just doing my civic duty for all the single ladies."

"Yes. You do that."

Watching his brother's pallid face, Dean's laughter died down. "I can't lost him, Mom. Not again. You have no idea how many times I've lost him, how many times we've lost each other. I can't go through that again."

"Oh, honey." Mary cupped Dean's cheek. "I know. I can't even bear thinking losing either one of you too. Not now that we're back together."

With tears in his eyes, Dean looked down at Sam. "You had better wake up soon, Sammy. You need to finish that stupid list because no way am I gonna do that!"

"What list?"

Dean told her about the list of supplies for the apocalypse world refugees that Sam had been preparing, causing her to break into smiles. " _Tampons_? He thought of that? Really?"

"Yeah, Sammy is kinda insightful that way."

"I bet he is. Maybe I can follow him to the store later when he gets better, and you can—"

Sam chose that moment to jerk upright and he began to cough, hard. Dark blood spewed from his mouth, and he wasn't able to make it stop. The blood kept on coming.

"Sammy!"

Horrified, Dean and Mary held him close between them. Dean managed to grab a trashcan and he placed it under Sam's chin. More blood poured out of Sam's mouth.

Wheezing, Sam's eyes fluttered open. He gazed at them through heavy lidded eyes. "D…Mmma…"

"I'm here, baby. We're both here," Mary crooned to her ailing son. "It' gonna be okay. You'll be alright."

"Hh…help mm…me…"

"We are here for you, man. Stay strong. We will not leave you." Dean was openly weeping now. He felt so utterly helpless.

Bobby and his people had come rushing and were now crowding at the door. Ketch was there too. They all watched sadly on.

"The potion," Bobby said, forlornly.

"What about the potion?" Dean barked, his utmost fear was making him angry.

"It's like what you were afraid of," said Ketch. "It's a little…too late."

 **TBC…**

 **A/N : Hang on to those cliff, guys. Just hang on. If Tom Cruise can do it, so can you!**

7


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: And...here's the finale.**

 ***SPNSPNSPNSPN** **SPNSPNSPNSPN***

Bobby and Maggie, along with the men and women from the apocalypse world, had returned to their vigil. They all sat shoulder to shoulder in the hallway, right outside Sam's room. The sound of their constant praying came only as low murmurs to Dean's ears.

Rubbing a hand down his tired face, Dean turned to gaze sadly at his younger brother, who had been lying unresponsive since the blood vomiting episode about two hours ago. Sam had not resurfaced. Not even a stir or a sound came from him anymore, only stillness. His life was slowly fading from him.

Mary sat by Sam's head, her body curled protectively around his younger son as she slightly dozed. There were no more tears for her to weep, for she was already spent from grief and regret. Too much time had been wasted since her return to life by Amara's decree. Instead of being the mother that his sons desired, she had stayed away. She had deceived them. She had even betrayed them.

All opportunities to get closer to Sam—the baby that she had left behind at her death, the son that had no clear memories of his mother—were slipping through her fingers. She was losing him, mere hours after she just got him back.

Sitting on the bed at his brother's feet, Dean silently watched them both, his only living family.

 _This is not fair_ , he thought to himself, getting angry all over again. _This is so fucking unfair!_

Jumping to his feet, he began to pace in agitation. He would not sit still, as it was never in his nature to gladly let matter take its own course. And most importantly, he refused to give up.

"There must be a way," he muttered. "There _should_ be!"

"Dean?"

His mother's soft voice stilled him. He forced himself to smile, though inside he felt like screaming.

"Are you okay, honey?"

Dean shrugged. "Of course, I am. My brother is dying. _Again_. I'm cool."

Mary gave his elder son a telling look. "Dean."

He sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "Sorry, Mom."

"It's fine. I understand," she replied. "I know exactly how you feel."

 _Do you, really?_

Dean met her gaze. He wanted to accuse her of many things, to tell her that everything bad that had happened in their life was all her fault to begin with. If she had not made that deal with the yellow eyed demon, if she had not been a hunter…

But it was so yesterday's news. He had already told her all of that anyway, on that very day right before Lucifer dragged her into the apocalypse world. Dean shook his head, feeling mortified for having such unkind thoughts towards his own mother.

Turning away, he glared at the blood bag hanging from the IV stand. Ketch had begun the transfusion procedure soon after Sam had ceased vomiting blood. It was a good thing that they always kept stock of their own blood for emergencies. The brothers had been having their version of Winchester blood drive every three months.

So far, Dean couldn't find any improvements on Sam following the transfusion. All he could see was his brother lying so still and weak in that bed, looking so ashen face with his breath hitching as if he had not enough oxygen. Despite his rock-solid physique, Sam's current frailty made him look so young and small that Dean wanted to gather him up and rock him back to health.

 _If only I had the power to heal_ …

On that thought, Dean took out his phone and started dialing Castiel's number for the umpteenth time. Like before, the call went straight to voice mail. Dean swore a blue streak. He drew back his arm, about to throw the phone against the wall, when there was a sudden commotion outside in the hallway.

 _Aw, come on! What now?_

Exchanging puzzled glances with his mother, Dean quickly headed to the door to have a look. His eyes widened instantly. " _Cas_?"

The angel that Dean had been trying to reach this whole time was now standing at the other end of the long hallway, the young nephilim following right next to him. Both looked baffled by the sight of the gathering.

"Um…what's going on?" Castiel asked, frowning.

Gritting his teeth, Dean walked calmly and steadily between the refugees sitting on the floor until he stood nose to nose with his best friend.

"We have been trying to reach you for _hours_ ," Dean said in a low tone. "Cas, where _were_ you?"

Castiel blinked for several heartbeat. "I took Jack to the famous ice cream parlor in Topeka."

It was Dean's turn to blink. "You what?"

"Jack has been real upset since we returned from the other side," Castiel explained. "I wanted to cheer him up, and I learned that eating ice creams can makes people feel better."

"He's right," Jack innocently said. "The ice cream does make me feel a lot better. I ate two large gallons. They put nougats on them. I'm not so sad now."

Dean sighed, restricting himself from planting a face palm. "And you took…what? A six hour trip to get there and back, just for ice creams?"

"It was world famous, the only ice cream parlor opens at midnight. The internet suggested it," Castiel responded. "Besides, Jack and I have had a good long talk. He'll be okay now. Right, Jack?"

Jack nodded, smiling happily. He then looked at the group of men and women who sat against the wall, staring back at him. "Dean, what's happening? Why is everyone here?"

There was pain in his voice when Dean replied, "It's Sam."

Jack's smile fell flat. "What's wrong with Sam?"

Instead of answering, Dean turned to Castiel, saying, "We've been calling and calling you, so many times. What happen to your phone?"

"I switched it off. No interruptions, more privacy with Jack for our talk."

"Of course." Dean forced a thin smile. "I suggest you check your voicemail now."

Still puzzled, Castiel took out his phone and switched it on. He then played the first message, the one from Mary, " _Cas, where are you? You need to come home now! Sam is sick, very sick. I think he's dying, there's so much blood. Please come home, Cas! Sam needs you_ …"

Jack gasped. Without another word, he ran into Sam's room.

Castiel looked up in dismay. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I didn't know."

"I know, Cas. I know." Dean nodded, his eyes swimming with tears as he patted Cas' shoulder. He was not angry, not anymore. Only hopeful. "It's alright. You're here now."

"I will go and see Sam right away."

With that, Castiel also rushed off. Dean followed at much slower pace. At Sam's opened doorway, he paused. Turning towards Bobby, Maggie, and the other refugees from the other world, he softly told them, "Thank you."

They all smiled in return.

Dean was not a fan of Chuck because the God had just up and left with Amara, never returning and never answering his prayers ever since. But Dean was sure the prayers of the refugees were somehow being heard and regarded. He couldn't appreciated them more for being there.

Stepping into Sam's room, the first thing he noticed was Jack. The young nephilim had draped himself across Sam's knees, crying unabashedly. Dean was about to reproach the kid when he remembered that Jack was practically a young child, not even a year old. Clearly, Jack was distraught. He had lost his mother, his father. And now…

Jack cared a lot about Sam, loved him even. The first man Jack had seen in his life, Sam was always kind to him, patiently nurturing him to be good. It was no surprise that Jack regarded Sam as a surrogate father, someone he could look up to.

Dean reached out to touch Jack's shaking shoulder. "Jack."

"How could this happen?" Jack sobbed, turning to Dean. "My father brought Sam back to life, so why is he dying?"

Dean sighed. "The vampire bite was venomous. Lucifer gave Sam his life but neglected to heal the venom. The venom has been attacking him from the inside, and now Sam's body couldn't fight it anymore."

Jack's eyes widened. "But…but why? How could my father do that to Sam?"

 _Boy, you have no idea_.

Instead of answering, Dean pulled Jack away from the bed. "Let's give Cas some space to do his healing works. Okay, Jack? Sam will be alright in no time."

"I want to heal him, truly," Jack said, and stared accusingly at his upturned palms, "But I don't know how."

Mary, who had risen from the bed to give Castiel more room, came close to hug the kid. "It's okay, Jack. Maybe not now, but later. Let's see how Castiel does it."

Castiel had removed his long trench coat and suit jacket. Rolling up his sleeves, he took his seat on the bed next to Sam's hip. As Dean, Jack, and Mary keenly watched, Castiel placed his hand on top of Sam's chest, right over his heart. Almost instantly, bright blue-white flares materialized from beneath his palm.

Castiel shut his eyes with a low moan, his face grimacing.

"Cas?" Dean worriedly called out.

"The damages are severe," Castiel responded, his teeth gritting. "The venom is still raging hot like fire. His organs are quickly shutting down. Too much blood is lost."

"Can you still heal him?"

"I'll try my best, Dean," Castiel replied. "But he is very weak. I hope I'm still not too late."

As Castiel continued with his efforts, Bobby and Ketch silently stepped into the room to join Jack and the Winchesters. Even then, Bobby would not stopped praying.

Almost like an eternity later, which was actually not more than a full minute, Castiel finally relaxed as he took his hand away from Sam's chest. The angel had turned a little pale, but he was smiling wanly back at the others as he announced, "He's going to live."

They all just stared back at him for a long moment.

"Are you sure, Cas?" Dean asked, a bit uncertain. Sam was yet to stir, his eyes were still closed. But Dean also noticed that his brother didn't look pale anymore, his breathing steady and sure. In fact, Sam looked like he was only sleeping.

"I am sure." Cas nodded, staggering a bit as he rose to his feet. "It was an intense and very complicated procedure but I managed to cure the venom, repair his organs, and stop the internal bleeding. He's going to pull through. However, the blood lost has weakened him a great deal, so he needs a lot of rest. He'll bounce back to health in a few days."

"Oh, Cas, thank you. Thank you so much!" Mary was so delighted she jumped into Castiel's arms and kissed both his cheeks. She then went to sit next to Sam and gazed lovingly at her youngest son, stroking his head while crooning sweet nonsense into his ears.

Jack broke into grins and went to sit on Sam's other side. Bobby took a deep breath of relief before he shook hands with Ketch.

"I feel like kissing you too," Dean heartily told Cas, so overwhelmed he was by mixed emotions.

Cas smiled. "A simple handshake will do."

Shaking his head, Dean grabbed Cas into his arms. They held on that way for a long moment.

No more words were needed.

 ***SPNSPNSPNSPN** **SPNSPNSPNSPN***

"Come on, Sam. Just a little bit more," Mary coaxed his son with another spoonful of rice tomato soup.

"No, Mom. Thanks, but I'm already full." Sam put up a hand to still his mother's arm. Sitting with his back against the headboard, a blanket up to his waist to chase off the chills, Sam had been sleeping the whole day away. He had only woken up about an hour ago.

"You sure?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "It tastes real good, though. Thanks, Mom."

"It's the least I can do. I want you to get better fast."

"Oh, I will. Just watch me."

Chuckling, she put down the soup bowl and handed him a glass of water. "You need to drink something hot too. I'll make you some tea."

"No, Mom. You don't have to do that," Sam quickly replied, giving her back the water glass after he took a few sips.

"Oh, but I want to." Smiling, Mary cupped her son's cheek. "Sammy, I never had the chance to take care of you. I never saw you grow up. I never tended to you when you caught the flu or mumps or chicken pox, or when you broke your arm. So let me take care of you now. Please."

Feeling the kind of happiness he had never experienced before, Sam took her hand off his cheek and brought it to his lips. "I love you, Mom. I want you to know that."

Tearing up, Mary ran a hand through his son's fine brown hair. "I know, baby. I always know."

From the corner of his eyes, Sam noticed someone standing in the doorway, silently watching them both. He smiled through his own tears when he realized who it was.

"Hey, Jack. What's up?"

Jack smiled back, a bit tentatively. "Hey, Sam."

"Come on in."

"Um…am I intruding?"

"No, no, no. It's okay, Jack." Mary got to her feet, picking up the bowl and glass. "I'm going to go get Sam some hot tea anyway. You keep him company till I get back."

As she walked out, Jack took the seat she vacated. "So…how are you feeling, Sam?"

"Better," Sam replied. "A little tired, maybe. But I will be back on my feet by tomorrow, mark my words."

"That's good to hear. I wish I were the one who healed you, but I've never healed anyone or anything before. I have no idea how to do that."

"In time, you'll know how."

"Yeah, that's what Mary said too." There was a long silence afterwards as Jack stared down at his feet, as if he wanted to say something else but was afraid to do so.

"Jack? What's wrong, buddy?" Sam asked, his voice soft and filled with concern.

"My father. He…" Jack stuttered, "He brought you back to life but he left the venom inside you."

Sam sighed. He had known this was coming. "Jack, it's okay."

"It's not okay!" Jack cried out, his eyes gleamed with conflicting emotions. "It was awful of him to do such thing. I didn't know my father could be so mean."

"Jack, look." Sam grabbed the kid's shoulder and squeezed. "There's a lot of things that you don't know about Lucifer. Let's keep it that way."

"My father was really a bad person, wasn't he? Am I going to turn out like him?"

After a brief hesitation, Sam responded, "It doesn't matter who you are, Jack. It only matters what you do. Never forget that."

Biting his lower lip, Jack finally nodded. He still didn't look fully convinced, though, and so Sam decided to distract him. "Hey, can you help me get that?"

Jack looked up. "What?"

"The switchblade on that shelve next to the TV."

Frowning, Jack rose to do so. He picked up the knife and handed it over to Sam. "What are you gonna do with it?"

Instead of answering, Sam snapped open the blade. He then sliced open his palm about two inches long. Blood instantly gushed out.

"Sam! What are you doing?" Jack cried out in shock.

Calmly, Sam raised his injured hand towards the nephilim. "Heal it."

Jack blinked, flabbergasted. " _What_?"

"Heal it," Sam repeated. "I know you can do it."

"But…but I don't know how."

"There's a first time for everything. Might as well start now."

"Something might go wrong, Sam. I might hurt you more than you already are."

"Jack," Sam firmly said, looking straight into the kid's eyes. "I trust you."

Feeling highly nervous, Jack visibly swallowed. He then slowly placed his palm against Sam's and began to concentrate. For a full minute, nothing happened.

Jack was quickly overcame with disappointment. But when he looked up, Sam was gazing back at him with full support and encouragement, so he doubled his efforts. And something extraordinary finally occurred.

A bluish white glare materialized between their palms. Not overly bright but it was clearly visible. Sam felt the warmth in his hand, spreading up to his arm followed by a slight tingling sensation. And then it was over.

Jack took away his hand, and they both stared. The cut had disappeared, the blood was gone, leaving behind an almost invisible two-inch scar.

Jack's face brightened with happiness. "It works! I did it!"

"Yes, you did." Sam smiled proudly back at him. Quietly, he added. "See, Jack? There's a goodness in you. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

The nephilim grinned in return. "I need practice."

"Of course. Practice makes perfect. And who better to teach you all that other than Castiel?"

"You're right, Sam. Cas can teach me more about healing. I'll go and find him. I hope he's already back from shopping with Dean."

Sam's eyes widened. "Cas and Dean went shopping?"

"Yeah. They took along several men and women from the other world too. Dean said you made a list?"

That did it. Sam laughed out loud.

"Sam? What's so funny?"

That made Sam laugh all the more. "Just go, Jack. Go find Cas. I'm good."

"Okay." Jack shrugged. He whirled around to run out the door, almost crashing into Dean who was coming in.

"Whoa, kid! Where's the fire?" Dean exclaimed, holding the nephilim steady by the shoulders.

"There's a fire?" Jack was puzzled.

Dean chuckled. "No, what I mean was, what's the hurry? Where are you rushing to?"

"I'm going to see Cas. He has also returned, right?"

"Yep. He's showing the women how to put detergents into the washing machine at the basement. Go help him before they start a foam party or something."

As the nephilim hurriedly ran off, Dean turned to Sam. "What's with the kid?"

Sam showed Dean his hand. "He healed a cut."

Dean came closer to peer at the scar in the middle of Sam's palm. "No way. He did that?"

"Yeah. "

Dean looked up with a frown, his green eyes blazing with displeasure. "But how did you get the cut?"

Sam refrained himself from rolling his eyes. "I did it to myself with the switchblade."

"You _what_?"

"Dean, it was just a simple cut."

"Simple? You almost died from blood lost, you moron! I nearly lost you. _Again_."

Sam had to look away from the pain in Dean's eyes. The hurt was so palpable that it brought lumps to his throat. "I'm sorry, man. It was inconsiderate of me."

Sighing, Dean ran a hand down the back of his neck. "Look at us. The minute you woke up, and what did we do? Behave like idiots."

"Yeah, _you're_ an idiot." Sam smirked back. "So. How's shopping?"

Dean went still, scowling in response. "Not a word, brother. Just shut up already."

"I heard you and Cas took some of the refugees along." Sam didn't heed the warning though. "You got everything on the list?"

Dean's glare grew even more ferocious. "Oh, yeah, we got them all. You betcha."

"Tampons included?"

"I didn't know that the aisle for ladies' supplies goes forever," Dean complained. "And they have hundreds different type of brands. _Hundreds_ , Sam. Thanks to you, I know it now."

"You're very welcome." Sam grinned. "Learn a new thing every day, huh?"

Dean cursed in response, causing Sam to laugh out loud. Dean's irritation vanished instantly.

"What?" Sam asked when he noticed Dean's intense gaze.

"You're laughing."

"Yeah, so?"

"I thought I would never hear you laugh again."

Sam was briefly struck speechless. "Dean, It's in the past now. I'm alright."

"And I'm glad. Really," Dean said. He sat down on the bed, facing his brother. "It's just that…I can't help feeling that the other shoe is gonna drop, you know? As if another curve ball is about to be thrown at us."

"So be it. We hit it back, like we always do. Do not worry about any curve balls right now. We'll deal with it when we have to."

Dean nodded, smiling now. "Okay. You're right."

"I'm always right."

"And so smug about it too."

"Well, I learn from you."

"Fine."

"Fine." Sam stared back. "So…are we gonna hug and make up or what?"

"No flick chick moments, you moron." Dean lightly slapped his brother upside the dead. "Come here."

Sam gladly went into his brother's arms. The brothers' embrace lasted only for several seconds but it was poignant enough that both were close to tears in the end.

"You're a freaking pansy," Dean joked, blinking hard to clear his eyes as he stood.

"I learn that from you too. No flick chick moment, my ass."

Chuckling, Dean asked, "So, you're good? You need anything?"

"I'm fine, Dean. No worries, okay?"

"Are you comfortable enough?"

"I _am_ , Dean. Will you stop already? You are being a mother hen. _Again_. Jeez."

Dean grabbed the television remote. "Wanna watch some TV? I can put up some porn on the Netflix for ya."

" _No_! Dean, come on man. Turn it off."

Dean just grinned at the erotic scene now flashing on the television screen. Placing the remote out of Sam's reach, he headed for the door. "Okay, brother. I'll leave you alone with Jasmine and Aurora. Get some rest. No homework, watch some porn."

"You're a jerk, you know that?" Sam was shouting behind him.

"And you're a bitch," Dean shot back, an instant before he bumped into his mother at the doorway.

"Dean! Language," Mary said, keeping a tighter grip on the mug of hot tea that she brought for Sam.

"Sorry, Mom."

Dean didn't sound sorry at all. As he quickly walked away, he could still hear it when his mother cried out in shock, "Sam! What on earth are you watching?

"But _Mom_ …" Sam was heard whining. "I wasn't…"

Dean smiled. His family was all here. Everyone was safe. Everything was fine. At least for now, but he would take it all and cherish every moment.

 **THE END**

 **A/N: I would like to give a big wet kiss to those who read and review this fic. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as you've enjoyed watching the real deal on TV. Thanks for reading, guys!**

 **Adromir has left the building to go watch SPN pilot all over again.** _ **Vrooommm**_ **! (That's the sound of Baby, if you're wondering. I'm borrowing it from the boys for the day. Okay, okay, I stole it! Just don't tell Dean. He's gonna be real mad if he finds out that Sam is sitting shotgun, holding several boxes of blueberry pies on his lap! Hahha!)**


End file.
